


oblivion do you get me

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Trope Bingo Round 4, damian is seventeen-ish here, playing fast and loose with timelines as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson has been dead for five years, except for the part where he's not, because he's standing five feet away from Damian and wearing a dress. Damian is furious, Dick is apologetic, and Jason is jealous of Dick's mascara. Or: eight hundred tons of crack written for Trope Bingo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oblivion do you get me

"I win," Damian says.

"We'll call it a tie," Jason says.

"No, Todd, I _won_ ," Damian insists, and Damian might be just as tall as he is (taller, probably, but Jason just tries not to stand too close to him) these days, voice quite a bit deeper than five years ago, but he _still_ sounds like a tiny fucking kid when he talks like that.

"Whatever," Jason says. He gestures to the food cart at the end of the street. "So I'll buy you a pretzel or something, come –"

He stops short for a second, then starts walking again. Maybe if he doesn't say anything, the kid won't notice the _very_ attractive woman currently paying for a pretzel. The _very_ attractive man dressed as a woman who just happens to be, also, a certain ex-Robin/ex-Batman.

"On second thought, there's a falafel place three blocks that way –" Jason starts to say, but it's too late, and Damian is pretty much on _top_ of the woman formerly known as Nightwing because, well, who wouldn't recognize the most perfect ass put on this earth, tight blue slip of a dress or not?

"Shit," Jason says, just as Damian says, " _Grayson_."

"Wh - _oh._ " Dick's head whips around, eyes widening underneath thick black eyeliner, and Jason can tell it takes Dick a second to _place_ the man currently towering over him, but then –

"Damian?" Dick asks, and there's a husky quality to it like that's the voice Dick's chosen for the role he's playing, and Damian lets out a breath –

"You got _tall_ ," Dick says, and for a second something in Damian seems to relax, and Jason thinks it's all going to be okay –

And that's when they all nearly get arrested.

*

"I can't believe you almost hit me," Dick says. They're in a coffee shop a block or two down from where they first saw Dick, and the music is loud and awful and Jason kind of just wants to run away and leave these two to work out their domestic dispute, but –

"I _would_ have if Todd hadn't stopped me," Damian says. He rubs his arm where Jason zapped him with a taser gun.

"Yeah, that's new, too." Dick blinks – Jason is vaguely annoyed at how perfectly applied his eyeliner is, that his mascara's not even _clumpy_ \- and looks between the two of them. "Are you guys –" Dick starts, and Jason laughs. It's not like he hasn't _thought_ about it. In the last couple of year's Damian's gotten – well – shut up, he has some _really_ good genes. And when Damian came back, Jason helped him through the whole _recently resurrected and crazy_ part of things so in a way they're almost, maybe, friends.

It's been at least two weeks since they tried to kill each other, anyway.

"Just trying to keep the cops off that cute little ass of yours, Dickie," Jason says, while Damian scowls at both of them in turn.

Dick blushes. "Thanks," he says."I think."

"You're welcome," Jason says. "So, you wanna tell us what you're doing here?"

"And why you're not _dead_?"

Right. Oops. When Damian's done maiming Dick for being alive, he's _probably_ going to come after Jason next. Maybe. Unless Jason can make a quick exit and go to like, Cambodia for a while. It's probably safer there.

"Damian," Dick says. He reaches across the table for Damian's hand, which, bad move because Damian still looks ready to cut him up.

"It's a fair question," Jason points out. "I mean, everyone asked _me_."

"And me."

Dick sighs. "It's complicated, kiddo. I'm not even supposed to be in _Gotham_ , that's why all the –" he gestures to himself, then shrugs.

"I figured that was just your new look," Jason says. "I mean, you've had some doozies over the years, but this one works pretty well."

Damian kicks Jason's leg, but he hasn't actually stopped looking at _Dick_ for more than five seconds since they walked in here, so Jason takes that to mean Damian doesn't _disagree_.

It's pretty much Robin tradition to be a _little_ in love with Robin One. Damian got a little more of it, Jason figures, what with being Robin to Dick's Batman. Hell, if Jason had had to _live_ with Dick back then, he can only imagine –

Anyway.

"You could have called," Damian says. "There are all kinds of ways to secure a line."

"Please," Jason says. " _You_ know who raised him. You think golden boy here's gonna pick up a phone?"

Dick puts his head in his hands for a second, takes a breath, then looks back up. "Jason," he says, "as glad as I am to see that you're not… Dead, or in jail –"

"I was a bit for a spell –"

"I won't even ask which one," Dick says, and Jason shrugs. "I think – maybe – Damian and I need a second or two here to talk."

Jason doesn't say _thank god_ but it's a near thing. "No problem," he says. He stands back up, claps Damian on the far-too-broad-these-days shoulder. Dick stands up, too, and it's too late to escape from the hug before Dick has one far-too-toned arm around Jason. "I'm glad you're not dead," Dick says. "Right back at you, big bro," Jason says. "Now get _off_ me before we cause another scene."

Dick lets him go, and Jason gives him one more leer before he makes his exit. " _Love_ the dress, by the way."

Dick blushes. It's kind of great.

*

"So," Dick says.

"So," Damian agrees. Jason left exactly fifteen minutes ago, during which time Grayson explained – poorly – why Damian has spent the last five years of his life believing him to be dead.

Damian is still furious. He's had three espressos by now, actually, so he is _seething_. His jaw hurts from grinding his teeth and he's ready to shatter the tiny little espresso cup in his hands.

His mother would tell him to use his rage. His _father_ would say something similar, but wrap it up in a nice little bow of justice. Jason –

Well, Jason is the only reason Grayson doesn't have a black eye to match his eyeliner, so Damian isn't entirely sure about anything anymore.

Dick reaches across the table for Damian's hand, and this time, Damian doesn't snatch it back. The fact is – the _fact_ is – he's missed Grayson. Terribly, if he's honest. _Horrifically_ , if he speaks right down from the heart.

"Look," Dick says. He's stopped using that _ridiculous_ voice, at least, which was doing truly unsettling things to Damian's sanity. "You can be mad at me if you want to. _I'd_ be mad at me. But the fact is, I'm not supposed to be in town for very long, so _maybe_ you could just think about being furious with me and setting me on fire _after_ I have to leave again."

"Sword," Damian says.

"What?"

"If I was going to kill you, Grayson," Damian says, "I wouldn't set you on fire. I'd use a sword. Quick, clean, no horrific smell of burning flesh."

"Um," Dick says. "Thanks?"

"You're welcome," Damian says. "As to being furious with you…" Damian hears himself _huff_ before he can help it. He knows he's being petulant. Grayson had a job to do, and that's that, it's only –

"I'll do my best," Damian says.

Dick smiles at him – the first smile he's seen Grayson use since they caught him off-guard an hour ago, and even that wasn't a _true_ one – and Damian feels, for a moment, so very small again.

He feels himself smiling back, and then Grayson laughs.

"What is it?" Damian asks.

"Nothing," Dick says. He shakes his head. "It's just – nothing," Dick decides. He stands up then, and for just a second Damian is looking _up_ at Dick, that long neck and those beautiful, shining eyes, thick black hair styled and beautiful and knowing Dick, probably smelling like something _fruity_.

For just a second, everything looks exactly right.

"C'mon, kiddo," Dick says. "I'll show you my hotel room. It puts Bruce's penthouse to shame."

*

It's a dive, actually. Dick has stopped crime in _alleys_ that looked safer than this. But he's only in town for a day, long enough to pick up a flash drive from a source that's due to arrive in Gotham in about two hours – and Spyral is, sometimes, obnoxiously thrifty.

"Grayson," Damian says after Dick shuts the door behind them. "When were you planning on showing me your hotel? This appears to be some kind of storage closet."

"Yeah, yeah," Dick says. "We can't _all_ live in Wayne Manor, okay?"

And Damian stops examining the place and turns to Dick instead. And that look – fucks with Dick a little. A _lot_ , because in some ways it's _Bruce_ , but in other ways it's a lot more Damian. Damian, who Dick hasn't seen since he died. Damian, who got taller and stronger and _fiercer_ while Dick was out doing super secret spy stuff and – 

Dick pulls off one of his heels –

Playing dress-up, apparently.

" _You_ still could," Damian says to him. He tilts his head, and he's standing too close, and Dick can't exactly breathe. He has to look _up_ to see Damian. This is fucking ridiculous. "And you could keep those on. If you wanted."

"Jesus," Dick breathes. He's not sure whether to laugh or – do something else entirely.

Damian's _looking_ at him. Not _let me do some detective work_ looking at him, but _about to throw Dick on the **bed**_ looking at him. And sure, Dick kind of knew Damian had a crush on him, maybe, once, but that was years ago and a couple of _funerals_ in between.

And anyway –

"What," Dick says. He licks his lips, watches Damian track the movement. "What do you want –"

Damian's hands are on his shoulders, thumbs slipping under the straps of Dick's dress. Warm hands, calluses, and _jesus_ even his hands got enormous.

This can't –

"As you said," Damian says, "you're leaving again soon."

"Yeah, but –"

"And," Damian says. The straps of Dick's dress are just a bit off his shoulders now. "I've been thinking about this for five years."

"You've been thinking about me in a dress for five years?"

Damian _growls_ , tightening his grip on Dick's shoulders.

"Because all you had to do is ask," Dick says. He'd wink, if he could keep his eyes off Damian for a second.

"Not – you look _ridiculous_ , Grayson –"

"But you want me to keep the heels on."

Damian – blushes. It's a relief, actually, because he can feel his dick starting to poke through his goddamn _dress_ and Damian's barely even touched him yet and there shouldn't even be a _yet_ but –

This is happening.

"Maybe I just didn't want to have to hurt my _neck_ leaning down towards you," Damian says, and then he's working Dick's zipper and the dress is _off_ , sliding to the floor, and Dick stumbles trying to step out of the dress and get his flimsy little bra off at the same time and Damian is – holding him up and hard against him.

"God," Dick breathes out. " _Damian._ "

He puts his hand on Damian's chest. He can feel Damian's heartbeat, pulse going like crazy. He moves his hand up Damian's shoulder, to his neck, then just under his chin – and Damian's mouth opens when Dick's thumb brushes his bottom lip. Dick is naked but for a pair of _very_ skimpy panties and one high-heeled shoe, but when Dick looks up at Damian he looks – vulnerable, almost.

Nervous.

Like after all of that yelling and nearly punching Dick _out_ he's –

Nowhere in his element.

As if he knows he's caught out, Damian asks, "What are you _waiting_ for, Grayson?"

"Nothing," Dick says. _A lot of things_. "It's just." He keeps one hand on Damian's face, runs his fingers through Damian's hair with the other. He strokes the nape of Damian's neck, and Damian's eyes flicker. "It's just – " He tilts forward just a little, so their hips are lined up and he can _feel_ Damian, right – there. "You've never done this, have you?"

This time, Damian doesn't blush. He looks Dick right in the eye and says, "You were dead."

And Dick – Dick has seen things and done things, the last five years, that he's not proud of; he's learned that there are things even _he_ can't do. He's felt his heart harden a little. 

But when Damian says that –

"Damian," Dick says again, and then suddenly he's being pushed, but not by Damian, onto the bed behind him.

"Oh," Dick says, and then Damian's standing over him and looking smug again.

"Wait," Dick says, "did you just –"

"Telekinesis," Damian says.

"You got super powers?" Dick asks, distracted. " _Jason_ didn't get superpowers," Dick says, and Damian rolls his eyes. "Yes, he's reminded me of this several times. Says he'd like a refund."

"Sounds about right," Dick says.

"Indeed," Damian says. He scowls a little, and what used to look petulant mostly looks _hot_ now. Nothing makes _sense_ anymore, except the need Dick has for Damian to be so much closer than he is right this second. "Now can we stop talking about Todd before –"

Dick wraps his legs around Damian and pulls him down until Damian is on the bed with him, between his legs and leaning over him. Damian's eyes are wide, and bright, and he shuts them when Dick touches his cheek again, when Dick cups his face with two hands and moves him down and –

Kisses him.

It shouldn't be right. It shouldn't _feel_ right, because it's Damian, but it does because it's –

Damian.

He tries to take it slow, go easy, feel this out and give Damian room to turn back if he wants to, but the second his mouth opens a little against Damian's, Damian starts making these soft, needy little noises that throw everything else out the damn window.

"Easy," Dick says, even though he means _yes_ , because Damian is _grinding_ down against him, pushing like he's fit to _burst_. "God," Dick says, and then Damian is kissing him again, licking at his mouth like he needs to taste every bit of Dick there is, _memorize_ him, and.

And Dick knows the feeling.

He runs his hands down Damian's cheeks, tracing the taught lines of his neck, those _broad_ shoulders, his chest – and then Dick is pulling at hem of Damian's shirt, because he needs to _see_. Needs to know just how good everything he's feeling _looks_.

He lets his head fall back on the bed, a trail of spit leading from Damian's mouth to his until he licks at it. Damian _pants_ at him, but at a silent gesture from Dick he sits up – Dick still has his legs wrapped around him like they're fucking _magnetic_ \- and pulls off his t-shirt.

And yeah, thank god for Bruce's crazy workout routines and Alfred's cooking, because _wow_.

Dick untangles himself enough to push himself _up_ , enough that he's face-to-face with abs some artist chiseled into stone, and then before he can think he _licks_ , tongue tracing and tasting the skin there while Damian pants above him.

"Grayson," Damian says. "D - _Dick_ ," he says, and Dick looks up, grinning a little. His tongue swirls around Damian's navel, then lower, nose brushing at the dark hairs leading down to where Damian's so _hard_.

For him. He's.

"Will you," Damian starts, and Dick grabs Damian's ass with _both_ hands to push him even closer as he pops open the buttons of Damian's jeans with his teeth.

He looks up, and Dick hasn't even _touched_ him yet, but Damian's head is thrown back like he's three seconds from coming and maybe he _is_. If Dick had waited this long –

(In some ways he _has_ -)

Dick breathes against him, pulls the zipper down on Damian's jeans and then pulls _those_ down. "You have to tell me what you want, Little D."

"I'm not," Damian says. He gets his hand in Dick's hair, grips _tight_ for a second before releasing. "I'm not _little_ anymore."

And, well, that's – obvious, even if Dick's face wasn't about a millimeter from his cock, but he hums in agreement and brushes his mouth over Damian's boxer-briefs, feeling the head of his cock through the fabric. Damian arches forward and then goes _rigid_ for a second before his hand grips Dick's hair and he says, " _Do it._ "

Dick tongues the fabric, then grins back up at Damian. "Come on," he says. "I _know_ you learned to be more polite than that."

"Please," Damian says, but it comes out as about four syllables because Dick peels Damian's underwear down and swallows the head of his cock.

It's been a long time. Lifetimes ago, in a way, but he must still know what he's doing, because he barely gets Damian in his mouth before Damian is panting and whimpering and bucking _into_ him, and something in Dick warms because he knows he's the first person to ever do this for Damian.

He's the first, and he's leaving again soon, but he wants Damian to _remember_.

And _he_ wants to remember.

He takes Damian in further, tonguing the underside of his cock, humming his approval when Damian grips his hair a little tighter. From this angle, it's hard to see the expression on Damian's face, but he doesn't need to be a detective to figure out Damian is _really_ enjoying this.

For a kid raised by a bunch of assassins, Damian is _loud_. He moans every time Dick takes him all the way into his mouth, _whimpers_ each time he pulls back a little to tease the head of his cock, and _definitely_ takes at least a few hairs with him when Dick pulls off to lick and suck on his balls.

" _Grayson_ ," Damian says, and it almost sounds like a curse. Dick laps at him, and with his hands free he gets one around Damian's cock again and uses his other to press the heel of his palm into his own.

Damian shudders under him, bucks into his touch, but then the hand in his hair pulls him all the way _back_ and Damian says, "Don't. I want – don't want to _come_ yet, I –"

Dick licks his lips, tasting Damian's pre-come there. He squeezes Damian's cock, asks, "So what _do_ you want?"

Damian pulls him up – by the _hair_ \- and kisses him again. It's hot, and messy, and Damian maybe doesn't have a lot of experience with this but he learns pretty damn fast. Dick's hand is still around Damian's cock, and he gives him another pull, then echoes Damian's moan when Damian slips his hand down Dick's panties and grips him _hard_.

"I want to touch you," Damian says against his mouth. The panties tear a little with Damian's impatience to get them _off_ , and Damian bites at Dick's mouth, bites at his _throat_ , and Damian says, "I want – everything."

 _So take it_ , Dick thinks, but he knows it's the wrong thing to say, because he's leaving soon and maybe this time it won't be five years, but it's not like –

He can't go around making promises he can't keep. He's not _Bruce_.

And, well, thank god for _that_.

So Dick doesn't answer, not with words, just moves and flips them so that Damian is on his back with Dick straddling him. Damian looks ready to protest this new arrangement, but then Dick takes his hand, wraps it around _both_ their cocks, and Damian gets it.

When things were good – when it was just _them_ \- they never really needed words.

Damian starts to move, and then so does Dick, pushing his cock against Damian's, into Damian's hands, until they have a rhythm that's just – so – perfect.

He covers Damian's mouth with his, licking his way inside, tasting himself and Damian and the three espressos Damian had at the café, and when he pulls back to let Damian breathe Damian says, "I want – I want to fuck you. Want you to fuck _me_ , I want –"

 _Everything._ Dick silences him again, gets his hand over Damian's and starts moving faster, almost _brutal_ , until he's shaking, until he can feel Damian shaking under him, and Dick kisses his mouth, his chin, his cheek, and says, "I missed you so much," and Damian shuts his eyes and comes all over both of their hands with a shout that could shake the foundations of this crappy motel room.

When Damian's done, Dick pulls back a little and sits up. He's still hard, aching with it, but he brings his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean. Damian's eyes snap open. "I won't," he says, panting a little, "I won't be _manhandled_ , Grayson," he says.

"Hm," Dick says. "You know, I was kind of starting to appreciate how _big_ you've gotten, but I _am_ gonna miss picking you –"

Damian flips them again –

"Up."

"Things change," Damian says, and it could mean a lot of things, _does_ mean a lot of things, but mostly what it means right now is that Damian gets his hand back around Dick's cock and jerks him hard, fast, until the heels of Dick's shoe is digging a hole into Damian's shoulder and Dick is yelling his stupid head off.

After – a while after, when Dick's cleaned them up the best he could and finally kicked off his other shoe – Damian helps Dick zip his dress back up and says, "I'm still mad at you, you know."

Dick tilts his head to look at him, wondering for a second if any of this would ever have happened if they both hadn't been dead, for a while.

He's not sure either of them needs to know the answer to that, so he just smiles and says, "I know, and that's fair. But have you considered: Bruce and Jason didn't tell you I was alive, either?"

Bruce and Jason are probably going to kill him for that one. Actually, Bruce is probably going to kill him anyway, considering. But, hey, he's already supposed to be dead. How much worse can things get?


End file.
